


Fugue

by therevengeoftheoctopus



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: AU, D.Gray-man Big Bang 2018, Demons, Gen, Gen Fic, Magic, Modern AU, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therevengeoftheoctopus/pseuds/therevengeoftheoctopus
Summary: fuguefyo͞oɡ/nounnoun: fugue; plural noun: fugues1.Musica contrapuntal composition in which a short melody or phrase (the subject) is introduced by one part and successively taken up by others and developed by interweaving the parts.2.Psychiatrya state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity, often coupled with flight from one's usual environment, associated with certain forms of hysteria and epilepsy.In a world with few remaining mages, the Black Order provides the last line of defense against demons. With possessions on the rise, Allen Walker is quickly accepted into their ranks. But is this talented young mage all that he seems? Even the most innocent have something to hide.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a while, so be easy on me lol. Big shoutout to my beta, Skywonder (zackfairy.tumblr.com) and my artist for the Big Bang, stefis04.tumblr.com. For this first chapter, please listen to Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C# minor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXQCPAR0EHo.

The man’s staff left small circles in the compacted dirt whenever he put it down. Allen had just passed through a small town in rural England and was walking until he reached the next sign of civilization. 

He paused upon seeing a sign for a cemetery. His foot shifted forward, almost compelled to enter. One of the cons to being a necromancer was being almost irresistibly drawn to cemeteries. He craved to plunge his hands into the dark loam. The power of souls crying out to him pulled at his soul, or what was left of it. 

He gave up, pushing open the rusted gate. It was quiet, and dark. Near the entrance was a new grave, with a modest headstone. Modest as in the headstone was a rock with the deceased’s name etched shallowly into it. He walked over. As a necromancer, he would at least be able to help the poor man pass on. 

A body lay on the ground next to the grave. The man picked up his pace, running the last few steps before falling to his knees in front of the body. He turned over the body, checking the pulse. Nothing. 

He examined the body as best he could in the dark. Unfortunately, it belonged to a young boy. His vibrant red hair stood out even in the dark, matted with blood. It originated from a large gash above his brow, matching a deep brown splotch on the headstone. His eyes fell to a larger stain on the boy’s shirt. His stomach had been raked open by what looked like claws, intestine peaking out of the large wound. He sighed, his head falling back as he realized what had happened. The boy must have been close to the man that had died and made a botched attempt to revive him. A demon had come through instead and killed him. He felt a phantom ache where scars should have been as he remembered his own run in with demons. 

He doubled over, coughing harshly as he was hit with a fit. Blood stained his sleeve. He grit his teeth, realizing what needed to be done. He’d never tried it with somebody this young before, but he didn't have much more time. If he waited any longer, he’d have to resort to killing somebody. 

He put his hands on top of the boy’s wounds, shutting his eyes. He began chanting in the demon tongue, making the sign of the demon eye over the boy. The wounds on his abdomen began to heal, stitching themselves together grotesquely.  
He slumped back on his heels, panting. That had taken more out of them than he had expected. He’d definitely made the right choice by deciding to do this now. As it was, he’d barely have enough magic left to complete the ritual. 

Finally, he closed his eyes and began chanting. Time grew still in that moment. His head felt both heavy and light at the same time. He was never able to tell how long this ritual actually took, but it felt like forever. 

After the last word left his mouth, he slumped over, blood crusting his lips. The roots of his hair faded to a bright white.

***

Allen awoke with a crushing headache. He sat up slowly, wincing as the pain intensified. Unfortunately, he’d only had enough magic to heal the abdominal wound. The head wound was still very much unhealed and painful. The door creaked open. He tensed. He was an alright actor, but he would be hard pressed to fool someone that had actually known this kid. 

In walked a middle aged man with bright red hair. A white mask covered half of his face, and a small gold familiar floated above his left shoulder. The man rested his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms. 

“Who are you?” the man asked. 

“Allen,” he answered. “Allen Walker.” ‘Walker’ had been a pseudonym of Mana’s back in the day. “And who are you?” 

“Marian Cross. Call me Cross or Master Cross. If you call me Marian I’ll slit your throat, brat.” He took a drag on the cigar that had appeared almost instantaneously in his hands. He gave him another scrutinizing look. “What’s that on your eye?” 

“What?” Allen asked. 

“It’s an upside down pentagram.” Cross frowned. He wasn’t too familiar with cases of failed resurrection, but he’d never seen anything like that scar on anyone who’d lived to tell the tale.

Allen paled. This kid must have summoned a high level demon to be stuck with a curse like that. “I don't know. It must have appeared after I summoned… whatever that was. Where are we?” Allen asked, quickly changing the topic. 

Cross sighed. “So many questions…! Does it really matter? Unfortunately, I can’t really let you leave. As much as I’m loathe to take on a brat like you, I have no choice. See, that spell you performed to try and bring back...whoever you were trying to bring back is forbidden under like ten international laws. If I let you go I have no clue what other forbidden stunts you’ll pull. You likely only let through one of the little demons this time, but next time you try this shit you could take out an entire village, or even a full-fledged city. You must be pretty powerful to pull something like this with no apparent training. Unfortunately, it’s either become my apprentice or I turn you over to Order for the Advancement of Magical Sciences. I would take the second option, but Mother would fuckin’ kill me. And they’d just use this as an excuse to try and keep me in one of their headquarters.” He made a face. 

Allen frowned. One thing he hadn’t considered when he’d taken over a kid’s body was the need for a legal guardian. Cross would fulfill that, although Allen deeply doubted whether the man should be responsible for an actual child. Though it was tempting to just give Cross the slip, it would be difficult for him to travel as easily as he would need to as a kid. Plus, there was no way this body had the physical strength he would need to go up against the Noah. Maybe the Order that Cross mentioned would have some information about them. 

“Fine,” he finally said. “What does being your apprentice entail?” 

Cross grinned sadistically.


	2. Toccata and Fugue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ho9rZjlsyYY

The man’s eyes were desperate. “Call.” His entire pile of chips had slowly migrated to the middle of the table as the game progressed. 

Allen maintained his poker face as he set down his cards. A full house. A collective groan went up around the table. He hid a smile with his hand. “Sorry guys. I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you same time next week?” 

The man at the end of the table spat. “As if. Get out of here, cheat.”

Allen feigned shock. “Me? This is just beginner’s luck!”

The man shook his head. “The moment I can prove it I’m getting my money back.” 

Piles of money were set on the table as Allen stood up. “Much obliged, gentlemen.” He strode out of the bar without looking back. 

Once he was out of sight of the worn down building he grimaced, pushing his fingers into his temples. Unfortunately, drinking had done no favors for his still considerable headache. He’d developed headaches almost every day for the past few months, and it was starting to get annoying. He had tried several spells and poultices when the headaches started, but none had helped. Allen was beginning to suspect that the headaches were magical in origin, but several detection spells hadn’t found any trace of a curse. 

He turned into an alley. He could deal with this after he figured out some sleeping arrangements. Luckily his poker winnings had been enough to get him hotel rooms the past few nights. They were pretty seedy, but he’d seen worse while travelling with Cross. 

A growl resounded through the alley, freezing him in his tracks. Before he could react, a beast jumped out at him, bowling him over. It must have been a hellhound, if it was able to sneak up on him so easily. The hellhound clawed deep into his shoulder. He let out a hiss through clenched teeth. After a few seconds of grappling, he managed to shove it off, throwing up a ward. The hellhound growled, stalking forward only to be thrown back by the barrier. He pulled out his pistol, quickly loading it with the silver bullets stashed in his belt. It jumped at the barrier again, falling to the ground when Allen shot it in the chest. He shot another bullet through its skull for good measure. It let out a pitiful whimper before dissolving into black ash. 

Allen sighed, pulling out a spare jar. He scooped the ash into the jar, closing it and slapping a seal over the top. A rustling noise came from the dumpster behind him. 

He tensed and turned abruptly. “Who’s there?” he asked, fixing his eyes on the dumpster. 

A man emerged from the shadows behind the dumpster, a small smile on his face. The late afternoon sun glinted off his glasses. “I’m Komui Lee. That was a very impressive fight. What’s your name?” 

“Allen,” he said guardedly. “And thank you.” 

“Allen,” Komui said. “How would you like to work for me? Well, not for me, exactly. Have you heard of the Black Order?”

“Yes,” Allen said cautiously. The Black Order was only the biggest association of mages in the world. Given that there weren’t that many left, it was still a lightly staffed operation, but they’d been doing a lot of high-profile exorcisms lately. 

“How would you like to join? I run the North American branch located here in New York City. I can see that you’re a very skilled mage, and I think you would be a great asset to our team. We can get you a room there if you don’t have anywhere to stay.”

Allen blinked. He hadn’t realized the Black Order accepted random mages off the street so easily. This saved him all the trouble of having to find a way into the organization himself. Coming to New York was definitely the right move. “That sounds great. I just got into the city last weekend, so I could use a room.”   
Komui grinned. “Well, follow me!” He began to walk, and Allen hurried to catch up with him. “Oh, one thing I will say.” He turned around, and Allen shivered at the dangerous expression on his face. “Don’t even think about touching my sister Lenalee.” 

“I’m gay,” Allen managed to get out. 

Komui relaxed. “Oh, great!” He turned and continued walking as if nothing had happened. 

After an hour of walking Komui stopped in front of an old, weathered building. The brick work was old and faded, and it was wedged in between upscale apartment buildings. It was out of place across the street from the vegan bakery and juice bar. 

They climbed the few dirty steps to the door before Komui stopped. He put a fingertip on the door, muttering a spell under his breath. The door swung open. 

Allen couldn’t stop from gaping openly. High, vaulted ceilings stood in blatant defiance of the building’s edifice. He couldn’t help but wonder where the building was actually located. It took intense magic to maintain a pocket dimension, and the spellcaster had to be able to expend magic on it all the time. Whoever was maintaining this spell was a very strong mage. 

The floors were black marble, and his footsteps echoed through the huge room when he stepped inside. The door closed behind him with an ominous creak. A huge spiral staircase led to the upper floors. 

Belatedly, Allen hurried after Komui up the stairs. In his infatuation, he hadn’t noticed that Komui had already started walking away. 

The second floor was just as grand as the first. Whoever ran the Order had some serious money. The huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling broadcast that fact clearly. 

Allen followed Komui down a long corridor. As they went, the hall grew more cramped and dilapidated. Obviously, this was not a very popular part of the building. “Um, Komui?” he ventured. “Where are we going?” 

Komui paused. Allen barely managed to not collide with his back. “We’ll be going to the science wing first. I’ll have to examine you and make sure that you’re physically fit to be an exorcist. It’s very demanding work.” 

“Ah, okay.” They continued. Allen was beginning to wonder if the hall would ever end, when they reached a wooden door. Komui pulled a key out of his pocket and opened it. 

The walls were a clinical white. A table in the middle of the room held dozens of beakers, and bookshelves lining the walls were filled with hundreds of books in different languages. A blackboard on the opposite wall was covered with equations. Allen stared at it blankly. He barely knew basic algebra, so he had no chance of deciphering whatever cos and sin were. 

They went through one of the doors that led away from the lab. The next room was full of medical equipment. An examination table was in the middle of the room. 

“Sit down!” Komui said, smiling. His grin had turned almost menacing. Allen sat warily. “This isn’t going to be too thorough,” Komui said. “I’m just trying to see if there’s anything obvious that would eliminate you from consideration. Take off your shirt and gloves, please.”

Allen gulped but did what was instructed. He had tried to keep his disfigured arm hidden, but that would be impossible here. 

Komui hummed, tapping a pen against his clipboard. “How’s movement in that arm?” 

Allen touched it self-consciously. “Fine. It was immobile when I was younger, but now I can use it pretty easily.” 

He nodded. “Alright. Other than that, you look healthy. I have to ask, though- how did you get that scar? Does it affect your vision?” 

Allen grimaced. “When I was younger I had a run-in with a powerful demon. It cursed me, so now I can detect most low-level demons. Some of the higher levels I can’t see, though.” That was close enough to the truth. 

“That’s a useful curse,” Komui said neutrally.   
‘  
He shrugged. “I guess. It’s pretty painful.” 

“Well,” Komui said, standing up. “That’s the end of the physical examination. Now we’ve just got a magical examination. I’m not allowed to tell you anything about the process, so don’t ask.”

Allen sighed. Of course this place was as cryptic as the Catholic Church that had spawned it. He followed Komui down yet another hallway. It opened into a huge hall. A walkway jutted out about fifty feet above the ground. On the opposite wall were a group of priests totally covered in clothing. His eyes narrowed. Not priests. These were enchanted statues, designed to trick the eyes of even the most experienced mage. 

He looked sideways at Komui. The man obviously didn’t realize from the way he dropped into a bow in deference to them. He motioned discreetly for Allen to do the same. He grudgingly complied. He had no clue why the Order would use fake priests, but it didn’t sit right with him.  
Komui walked out onto the walkway. Allen followed carefully. They hadn’t built any rails, and it was a long and painful drop to the marble floors. Even he would be unlikely to survive the fall. 

They walked until the end of the walkway, where Komui stopped. He turned and looked at Allen. His features were strained with guilt. 

“Komui, what…?” he asked. Panic roiled in his gut. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shoving Allen off the edge. 

His shrill scream echoed around the room. How could he have been so stupid? He must have made some huge mistake, somehow given away his identity, for this to be happening. Or maybe they’d seen his stupid scar and thought he was a demon. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, but that didn’t mean he deserved to break every bone in his body. 

The breath was knocked out of him as he collided with something soft. He sucked in air, still hyperventilating from his close call. He put his hand down, trying to tell what he had fallen on. 

Before he could move, his vision blurred. When he was straightened, he was face to face with something huge and green. He stared, slack-jawed. He had been under the impression that the last dragon had died thousands of years ago. There was still fierce black market competition for their scales, but each scale was itself thousands of years old. They hadn’t been sighted in all that time either. He had no clue how the Black Order had found this one. 

“What is your name?” it asked. Its voice was deep and rumbled through his body. 

“Allen Walker,” he managed. 

“No,” she said. “Your real name.” 

His leg jerked in a futile attempt to escape. “What do you mean?” 

“My name is Hevlaska,” she said. “I need your real name to determine your intent. Don't worry, those above can’t hear us.” 

He let out a shuddering breath. Cross had been right when he said not to get mixed up in the Order. “Allen D. Campbell,” he said reluctantly. 

The dragon’s eyes widened in shock. “Campbell? What could a Campbell possibly want with the Order?” 

“All I desire,” he said, staring straight into her eyes. “Is to defeat the Noah. I swear, I have no ulterior motives.”

She sighed, smoke curling out of her nostril. “I sense no hostile intent. Alright, I will give my consent for you to join the Order. But be careful. The higher ups will not be pleased if they learn who you really are.” 

He nodded, gulping. She slowly lifted him back onto the walkway. He swayed for a moment when she let him go, almost falling before he caught his balance. 

“Well, Hevlaska?” one of the statues asked. 

She inclined her head towards them. “He represents no threat.” 

“And?” they demanded. 

She turned back to look at Allen. “He is to be the destroyer of time,” she intoned. 

Komui grinned, clapping him on the back. The statues whispered urgently to each other. “Wow, Allen! That means that you could be the one to kill the Millenium Earl!” 

Allen nodded dumbly. His stomach churned. Killing the Millenium Earl was the last thing he wanted. 

***

He walked with Komui back to his office. It was overflowing with paperwork and aborted experiments. Vials of mysterious substances lined the walls and dirty coffee cups overflowed from the desk onto the floor. 

Komui sighed, pushing aside some of the papers to pull out a manila folder. “As you may have noticed, there are very few exorcists in the Order. Few people are willing to put their lives on the line to kill demons. And of course, the number of people being trained in the arts is rapidly declining. I can’t even use magic. I just picked up my knowledge of it from reading. My sister Lenalee is the magical one.” He paused. “Well, to make a long story short, we’ll be sending you out into the field sooner than I would normally like. You’ll be going with Kanda. He’s one of our most experienced exorcists, and this is a pretty routine mission, so you should be fine.” 

On cue, someone knocked at the door. Komui brightened and quickly stood up to let Kanda in. Allen smiled at him, ignoring the sharp glare sent his way. 

“Che,” Kanda spat. “Why do I have to train the beansprout?” 

Allen bristled “Beansprout? Who are you talking about, Bakanda?” 

Kanda blinked in surprise, before narrowing his eyes. “Hm. Whatever. Let’s just get on with this.” He turned to Komui. “What’s the mission?” 

Komui opened the folder, pulling out two smaller packets and handing one to both of them. “These go into more detail, but basically you’ll be going to a rewinding town. We suspect some sort of demonic activity, but it’s up to you two to find it and exorcise it. Personally, I believe it’s a case of possession, but it could also just be a spirit dwelling in an old house. This shouldn’t be a dangerous mission, but as always, be careful! The train leaves in thirty minutes. There are plane tickets in there as well. You’re going to Germany.” 

 

Allen stepped off the plane with a huge yawn, his arms splaying in the air. Kanda walked after him, looking like he’d stepped out of a beauty salon rather than a six hour flight. 

“So, where’s the town?” Allen asked. 

Kanda scowled. “Did you not read the report? It’s a small town an hour outside Berlin. We have to catch another train.”

Allen groaned. “Do we have time to get something to eat? I’m starving.”

Kanda sighed. “Fine, beansprout. I guess it’s important for you to get more calcium so you can grow taller.” 

“Shut up,” he growled. It wasn’t his fault this body had only grown so tall. It wasn’t even his body to begin with. 

They walked in silence until arriving at a small cafe. Allen’s mouth watered at the scent of pastries wafting out of the open door. Before Kanda could protest, Allen had pulled him inside. His eyes immediately gravitated towards the pastries. 

“Hello, sir. What would you like?” the cashier asked in German. 

“Two of everything,” Allen answered in perfect German. 

The man’s mouth dropped open. “...Are you serious?” 

Allen nodded. 

“Uh...okay,” he stammered. He called in a sharp voice for the other cashier. They began meticulously bagging pastries. 

Kanda lifted an eyebrow. “What did you order?” 

“Ah,” Allen laughed, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I eat a lot.” 

“That didn’t answer my question,” Kanda snapped. 

Before Allen could answer, the cashier handed him three huge bags full of pastries. Kanda snapped his mouth shut. 

 

The mountains were wreathed in clouds. As the train had gone up and down the mountains, it had become impossible to see out of the windows. As they stepped off the platform, Allen could see the town for the first time. 

It sat in the dip between mountains. The houses were cute and obviously very old. They seemed like they could crumble into dust at the tiniest movement. The town, like the houses, was very small. Allen counted maybe fifty houses altogether. 

He stepped forward, a few paces behind Kanda. He took his time taking in the view. No matter where he went, he liked to metaphorically stop and smell the flowers. People these days rushed around like little ants. God, he sounded like somebody’s grandpa. He ignored the fact that if he had had kids he would be much older than the average grandpa. 

The kids playing in the town square quieted at their approach. “Hello,” Allen said in German. “Is there anywhere to stay in this town?” The kids stared blankly at him. 

His face hit the concrete as he was bowled over. He grunted. “Ah, I’m sorry!” the woman who ran into him exclaimed in German. She extended a hand to help him up. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she muttered. “I’m so clumsy!” The kids laughed and jeered at her.

“It’s no big deal,” Allen assured her. Kanda just looked on in disdain. “Actually, do you know anywhere we might be able to stay? We’ll be here for a few days, but we didn’t see a hotel or anything…” 

She blinked. “I suppose you could stay with me? But ah, you probably don’t want to, I’m sure there’s someone better.” 

“No, that’s fine!” Allen rushed to say. “If it’s not an imposition, we would be happy to stay with you.” 

“Well, okay then,” she said, rubbing her hands together. Her face was drawn tight. The canvas stretched across gaunt cheekbones, highlighting small bright black eyes. Her wiry black hair stuck up from her scalp and threatened to escape from the tight bun stretching the wrinkles from her forehead. 

They followed her through the town. Everywhere they walked people turned away, whispering furtively. Her apartment was on the outskirts of town. Of all the houses, it was the one most threatened by gravity. In some places bricks had crumbled and fallen out of the walls. 

A mousy old man greeted them in German, staring suspiciously at Kanda and Allen. “You have the rent money yet?” he asked the woman. 

She blinked. “Ah… not yet. Soon!” she assured. He shook his head, sighing. 

The wooden steps creaked as they ascended to the second floor. Huge gaps separated each board, threatening to send Allen tumbling through the staircase. 

“I’m sorry, we forgot to introduce ourselves,” Allen said conversationally. “I’m Allen, and this is Kanda. What’s your name?”

“I’m Miranda,” she said. 

The apartment was much like the woman herself: cramped, anxiety-inducing, and dark. Thick curtains sealed out any source of light. Of course, in this archaic village there were no lightbulbs, so the only light came through a leak in the roof. A tin bucket sat under it, collecting water. A straw mattress on an iron frame sat in the middle of the room across from an imposing grandfather clock. It was almost twice as tall as Allen, and made from a dark mahogany. Its hands were still. 

Allen’s eyes met Kanda’s, and then flickered over to the clock. Kanda nodded. Demons loved dark crannies like this to stuff themselves into, and that clock was a haunted object if he’d ever seen one. And he had seen many. 

Fortunately, that meant that it was unlikely that Miranda herself was possessed. Unless the demon had a very good reason, it wouldn’t change its home. 

“You two can sleep in the bed,” Miranda muttered. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“We couldn’t impose on you like that!” He smiled, sickly sweet. “I’ll sleep on the couch, and Kanda can sleep on the floor.” 

“What’s that, beansprout?” Kanda finally spoke up. “Why don’t you sleep on the floor and I’ll sleep on the couch, huh?” 

Allen shook his head. “You can’t handle sleeping on the floor, Kanda?” He crossed his arms, sticking up his chin in victory. 

Kanda growled, but didn’t argue. “Stupid beansprout,” he muttered under his breath. 

It was already night, so they settled in to sleep. Allen stared at the ceiling, waiting to hear the snores of Miranda and Kanda. It was over an hour until he heard the light snores of Kanda join the whistling noises Miranda made in her sleep. 

He stood carefully, balancing on the balls of his feet. The floor creaked under his weight. He breathed a sigh of relief when neither of them woke up. Quietly, he walked over to the clock.

The second hand ticked ominously. Lightning ran up his spine. He’d thought the clock was broken. Carefully, he opened the panel underneath the face. 

The brass pendulum swung back and forth slowly. A small iron box hidden at the bottom drew Allen’s eyes. A perfect home for a demon. He reached out, tracing the top edge. Cold. The demon was long gone now.

He replaced the panel, standing up. Cold sweat collected at the small of his back. He turned. 

Miranda stared back at him, her eyes pitch black. Ice crystallized in his veins. Her mouth opened, and he stared into the abyss. No matter how many times he had seen the possessed, it never failed to scare the shit out of him. “Leave,” she said, her voice gravelly and deep. The clock struck midnight. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she sank back into the bed. The sky began to drip in through the windows, collecting on the floor in pools of molasses. It sped up, until the entire town was on the floor of the room. Faster than Allen could see, it was sucked into the clock. It ticked one more time, and the sun came up. 

He hurried back to the couch, closing his eyes to feign sleep. Miranda’s alarm rang, driving nails through his ears. He sat up, blearily rubbing his eyes. He must have actually fallen asleep for a few minutes. Unfortunately, he was even more exhausted than he had been when he fell asleep. Curse this adolescent body and its fucked up circadian rhythm. 

Miranda woke up a few minutes later, joining Allen and Kanda in the kitchen. Kanda had started cooking. The smell of bacon and eggs made Allen salivate, and every few minutes he tried to snag some from the pan. Each time he was thwarted by a swat from Kanda’s spatula. 

He put some bread in the toaster, pulling a nice raspberry jam out of the fridge. “Ah, Miranda,” he said. “What do you usually do during the day?” 

Miranda was staring at the calendar. The breath wooshed out of her at the question. “I’m unemployed, but I’m job hunting. I’m trying! Unfortunately, most of the people in this town won’t hire me anymore. I drive away all their business.” 

Allen grimaced. He followed her line of sight to the calendar on the wall. He frowned. “Wasn’t yesterday the 13th?” Miranda looked at him, startled.

Kanda rolled his eyes. “Yeah, dumbass. Today’s the fourteenth.” He pulled out his phone to check the date, frowning when the number 13 glared back at him. “That’s weird.” 

Miranda just stared at them. “You guys know?” she finally asked, her voice watery. 

“What do you mean?” Allen asked. 

“Nobody else… noticed. But the days started repeating.” A shuddery laugh crawled up her throat. “It’s been the 13th of December for a month now.” 

“December? But it’s January…” Allen’s voice trailed off. 

“But you guys know! I’m not going crazy!” She hugged Allen, startling a wheeze out of him. 

“When did it start?” Kanda asked. 

“Well, like I said, about a month ago.” 

“Did anything unusual happen that day?” 

“Not really,” Miranda said. “The only thing that was out of the ordinary was that I bought the clock that day.” 

Kanda and Allen exchanged looks. “Why did you buy the clock?” Allen asked. 

Miranda shrugged, staring at the floor. “It was calling me. It was like me, broken and alone. So now it’s my friend.” 

Allen really, really hated possession cases.


	3. Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camille Saint-Saens-Danse Macabre https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyknBTm_YyM

They waited two days before confronting Miranda. They had to be prepared to exorcise the demon immediately after they told her. Over the next two December 13ths they continued to investigate. Allen poked and prodded at the clock, and Kanda went to the outskirts of town to observe it from different distances. 

Through their investigation, they learned that Miranda was universally pitied, if not outright hated. She had no friends, and as she’d admitted, couldn’t hold down a job. She was two months behind rent and faced eviction if she couldn’t scrape together the money in the next few weeks. Because of her ineptitude, nobody in the village would hire her. Her only prospect was to move to the city, but she didn’t have the money or the courage. Her parents had died when she was in her late teens in a car accident, so she’d been living on her own ever since. In short, she was the perfect victim of possession. 

They’d walked out to the woods with her. Allen claimed that he was eager to see Germany’s nature, and Miranda had gone along to show them some of her favorite spots. 

They reached a clearing in the middle of the forest. Kanda and Allen’s eyes met. Kanda nodded. Allen pushed Miranda against a tree, securing her wrists. “Sorry, Miranda,” he said apologetically. 

“What?” She kicked her legs, her eyes wide with panic. Allen finished tying her to the tree with a strong, charmed rope. He ignored the burning of his skin where it touched the rope. Kanda had doused it in holy water just to be extra safe, and he was a little too close to the demon side to feel comfortable with it.

“You’re possessed,” Allen explained. “We’re here to exorcise you. Just a warning, it won’t be pleasant. But at least you’ll get to stop living the same day over and over again!” He smiled. 

Kanda snorted, stalking forward. He uncorked the flask in his hands, dumping the contents over Miranda’s head. 

She screeched. “What are you doing?!” Her voice was high and reedy. “Stop!” Allen and Kanda shared a look when the word dipped into the lower register. Her eyes rolled back, black slowly coating her sclera. Long, thin teeth poked at her lips. “How dare you!” Her voice had turned deep and gravelly. 

Allen sighed. He walked forward, still hanging slightly back from Miranda. “Who commissioned you?” 

The demon’s mouth twitched into a snarl. “Pity,” he spat. Luckily for exorcists, demons were compelled to state their creator. 

Allen’s brow creased. During his last lifetime, Mercym hadn’t yet been awakened. When their creator was “resting”, as the Noah's called it, the demons they commissioned would sleep. It’d been awhile since Allen had practiced exorcising one of his creations. 

He pulled the rosemary from his coat pocket, lighting it on fire with a snap of his fingers. The scent tickled the back of his throat. He thrust it into the face of the demon. “I compel you!” he demanded in a strong voice. “Leave the body of Miranda Lotto!” He muttered the other verses under his breath, careful to keep his voice soft enough to prevent Kanda from hearing it. Most exorcists didn’t take kindly to mages that spoke demon tongue, especially ones who favored necromancy. The demonic language was much more effective, but also much more forbidden. 

The demon let out a guttural scream, thrashing and spitting. Black smoke flowed in a constant stream from its mouth, condensing in front of Miranda. It shimmered, coalescing to form the demon’s body. Its skin was dark red, its eyes pitch black. Other than that, it was almost identical to a human. Allen drew his gun, preparing to shoot. 

“Wait!” the demon exclaimed, its voice thin and high with panic. Allen paused. “Please don’t kill me. I just wanted to get out of the clock, I promise. It was making me go crazy, and I just possessed the first human I saw, but I swear I won’t do it again! I’ll just go live in the forest or something. Maybe swindle some drunks, but hey, they deserve it right?” It chuckled nervously. 

Allen slowly lowered his gun. He could see the demon’s soul vividly in his mind, a teenage punk who’d been hit by a drunk driver. He hadn’t been a saint, but he didn’t deserve… this. Despite himself, he believed the demon’s promise that he wouldn’t do anything else. He would make him perform a binding rite, of course, but they didn’t have to kill him. 

He opened his mouth to say that but was stopped by the sword sticking out of the demon’s chest. Blood trickled down its chin. Kanda pulled the sword out. Allen flinched at the sickly squelch. 

“What are you doing, beansprout?” Kanda said. “Lowering a gun for a demon will get you killed.”

He glared at Kanda. “We could have let him live! You heard what he said.” 

Kanda sneered. “Taking the word of a demon? Sparing its life? Pull a stunt like that in front of anyone else at the Order and they’ll try you for treason. I don’t know what you were thinking, but this isn’t the right organization for you.” He wiped his sword off on the grass before sheathing it. “I’m not going to say anything, but you might not be so lucky next time.” He walked away, leaving Allen staring after him. 

Allen sucked in a deep breath, trying to contain himself. He’d known Kanda was a prick, but he didn’t have to leave him alone to untie Miranda. And was it really so bad to try to save demons? Allen, of all people, knew that they weren’t beyond redemption. Before their souls had been corrupted, they had just been normal humans. They weren’t the nicest humans, but they were hardly deserving of an eternity of damnation. 

“Um,” Miranda said meekly. “Could you untie me now?” Allen started. He jogged over, putting his hands over the rope and whispering a spell. In Latin, of course. The rope unravelled, falling limply to the forest floor. Miranda fell to the ground, her limbs limp as overcooked pasta. He reached down, coiling up the rope and putting it in his bag before extending a hand to help her up. After a quick loop around the clearing while holding onto Allen’s shoulder for dear life, she regained the use of her legs. 

The walk back to the apartment was silent. The sky had turned a dusky purple, and everyone was inside eating dinner. Though Kanda only thought about himself, Allen hoped he’d had the sense to start dinner. 

Luckily he had. The smell of roasting chicken wafted through the apartment. Kanda scowled when he saw them. Allen just smiled, thin as a razorblade. “Thanks for leaving us back there, asshole,” he said in a sickly sweet voice. 

Kanda just snorted and handed them each a plate full of chicken and rice. “Like you didn’t deserve it.” 

Allen picked at his food, eyeing it warily. He wouldn’t put it past Kanda to poison him. Or put glass in his rice. He smashed it down with his fork, carefully picking through it for shards of glass. Seeing none, he careful lifted his fork to his mouth, swallowing delicately. He waited for five seconds. He hadn’t tasted any tell-tale poisons, and those he couldn’t taste would be neutralized by the copious amounts of charms he’d woven into his clothes. 

Kanda stared at him. “Did you seriously think I would poison your food?” he asked incredulously. “You’re an idiot.” He shook his head, gracefully nibbling on a chicken leg. 

Allen just shrugged. He may seem like a paranoid idiot now, but when they were actually poisoned Kanda would be sorry. “When are we leaving?” 

“Um,” Miranda interrupted. “Would it be alright if I went with you guys? I’m tired of being a burden! I don’t want to be possessed again because I’m weak. If there’s anything I can do at the Order to help then I would happily do it.” 

“You really think you can handle it?” Kanda asked. “You’ll die your first day if you’re not prepared.” 

Miranda nodded, sticking her chin up. “I’m sure! I can’t stay in this town, and I’ve always wanted to learn magic…” 

“It’s not something you should take lightly,” Allen warned. 

“I know. I’ve been thinking about leaving here for a while, and I want to be able to help other people.” 

Allen sighed. “Well, we’ll have to call Komui, but I’m sure the Order would welcome any new recruits.”

Komui approved, and in a few hours that godforsaken town was just a speck on the horizon. 

 

When they got back to the Order, Komui was standing there with a big smile on his face. “Hello! Miranda, I assume?” He extended a hand.

She took it uncertainly. “Hello,” she said in thickly accented English.

“So I’m sure you hit it off with Kanda and Allen, but I’ve got to take you for a physical examination. From there I can pair you with one of the generals, I think Nyne has an apprenticeship position open. It’s hard work, but if you want to make a difference you came to the right place.” 

She nodded, following him deeper into the building. Allen winced in sympathy. Komui could be quite intimidating when he didn’t realize it, and Miranda was like a wilting flower under any strong words. He had no idea how she was going to be able to handle being a demon hunter of all things, but he had seen a glimmer of iron at her core. Hopefully that would be enough to sustain her through an apprenticeship. 

He turned to Kanda. “Who are the generals?” 

Kanda grimaced. “They’re a group of four people who are the strongest mages of our generation, supposedly. They’re all fucking annoying.” 

“What are their names?” Allen was genuinely curious as to if he’d met any of them before. 

“Klaud Nyne, Froi Tiedoll, Winters Socalo, and Cross Marian. We used to have another one, Kevin Yeager, but he was killed a few weeks ago.” 

A pang of sadness rippled through him. He’d met Yeager a few times before, though he had never known him too well. The man was certainly a great mage. “Cross Marian?” he said with a grimace. 

“He’s supposedly the most powerful of the generals, but I’ve never met him. He avoids the Order like the plague while spending all their money on women and alcohol.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like my master.” Allen sighed, thinking of the tens of thousands of dollars of debt Cross had racked up in his name. 

Kanda stared at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t know Cross had any apprentices.” 

“I was his only one, if you could call it that. I was more like a servant.” His mouth twisted bitterly at the memory of those years.

Kanda snorted. 

 

After an hour of wandering around, Allen stumbled upon the library. It was huge and musty. Dust mites hung in the sunbeams that slanted out from the windows near the ceiling. The rows of shelves stretched farther than he could see, full of books on topics ranging from cleaning magic to the forbidden arts. 

He wandered in, making sure to steer clear of the sections on darker magic. He didn’t want to come under suspicion so soon after infiltrating. Not that he was infiltrating with bad intentions, he just really didn’t want anyone to figure out who, and what, he truly is. 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, startling him. He turned, staring at the curl of hair sticking up from the man’s bald head. He had deep circles under his eyes that made him look like a raccoon, and a dark outfit. So the Order had managed to recruit Bookman. 

“Hello,” he said in a neutral voice. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “I’m Allen Walker. Just joined the other day.” 

Bookman ignored his hand. “Hello. I like to meet all the people here at the Order. You just joined? May I ask why?” 

“Well, I’ve been exorcising demons on my own for a while, so I figured why not team up with some other mages to do it?” He shrugged. “Demons kind of target me, so it began as a habit to protect myself, and then people started asking me for help. Nothing too altruistic. Ah, but what’s your name?” 

“I’m Bookman,” he said. 

Allen bit his lip. “Bookman, I wonder if we could talk in private?” 

The man nodded. “That’s fine. I have a bedroom here, that’s plenty private.” 

Allen followed Bookman out of the library and through a series of twisting hallways. He hoped that Bookman would be able to guide him back to the entrance, because he was already horribly lost. 

“So,” Bookman said as he closed the door. “What did you want to talk to me about?” 

Allen paused a moment in deliberation. Throughout each lifetime, he’d made contact with one of the bookmen. They were secretive, and perfect for gathering intelligence. They were often reluctant to share, but they could be convinced. He’d even spent one lifetime as a bookman apprentice. Allen had more knowledge about the Noah than them, after all, so he had enough leverage to convince them to let go of some of their secrets. “Did you know that Pity was awake?”

Bookman’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

Allen shrugged. “I’m just a normal exorcist. Cross told me about the Noah, but no one at the Order has mentioned them.”

The Bookman sighed. “Pity woke up about three years ago. As for the Order… I still haven’t figured out what role the Order is playing in this war. Defeating the Earl is their ultimate goal, but as it stands they don’t have enough manpower and magical ability to defeat even one of the Noah. And they avoid mentioning the Noah to the point that only the top exorcists know of their existence, but not much else about them. They must have something up their sleeve, but the higher ups keep their cards close to their chest. My apprentice, Lavi, is posing as somewhat of an exorcist, and that should help. As for the Noah… they’re planning something big. I don’t know what, but they’ve been making more new demons. And new Noah have been awakening as well.” 

“Thank you, Bookman.” He smiled. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Bookman regarded him with careful eyes, picking him apart. The boy definitely knew more than he was letting on, but how much exactly was difficult to tell. He reminded him of another man he had known when he had been an apprentice himself. He would have to keep a careful eye on him from now on.


	4. Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ottorino Respighi- Pines of Rome, II. Catacombs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnsbLeCffa8

Rome was one of Allen’s favorite cities. It had changed a lot since he had last seen it, but it still had that ancient feeling. The cathedrals stood tall against the sky, unchanged in the past hundreds of years, and unchanging for the next hundred to come.   
“Allen!” Lenalee called. “Did you want some arancini?” 

Lavi snorted. “Lenalee, you had to ask? When does Allen not want something to eat?” 

Allen hurried towards them, following the scent of deep fried rice and sausage. He immediately inhaled three of the arancini, sighing in contentment. The other two ate in large bites, relishing the hot melted cheese and fried, crunchy crust. 

He stood up from the bench, stretching forward with a loud crack. “Time to check out the catacombs?” 

Lavi nodded. “I’ve been there before with Bookman, so I’ll guide us.” It was a quick walk to one of the neighboring alleys. There were a few main entrances to the catacombs that were used by tourists. The rest of the entrances were sealed for safety’s sake, but the city officials hadn’t found a few of the entrances. This was the entrance that Lavi had used when he’d come here with Bookman a few years ago.

Lenalee stood at the entrance to the alley, making sure nobody was watching. Meanwhile, Allen helped Lavi pry up the bricks at the end of the alley. By the time they’d managed to remove enough to fit into the entrance Allen’s hands were scratched and bleeding. Lavi slid in first, ducking down to fit into the narrow tunnel. Allen was last, and he replaced the bricks before settling into a crouch. 

The bright flashlight illuminated the path, showing bones pressed into the structure of the walls. They slowly crawled down the passageway, standing up when the tunnel widened. Allen kept a constant lookout, staring deeply into the eye sockets of any skulls they encountered. The demon they were looking for was invisible. It had likely been the ghost of one of the people killed and buried in the catacombs who had been turned into a demon. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say that he was a demon of Wrath. 

The Order had been contacted after several reports of people falling to their deaths in the catacombs. Small accidents weren’t uncommon here because of the high concentration of human remains that had been desecrated, but deaths were more likely the result of some demon. A demon in a place with as much tourist traffic as the catacombs could do some serious damage. 

Unfortunately, they had no clue where in the catacombs the demon was residing. That meant they had to trek to the middle of the catacombs in order to do some divination. Hopefully that would give them a good estimate as to where its home was. 

Goosebumps stood out on Allen’s skin, and he shivered as a strong gust of wind came down the tunnel. Maybe they wouldn’t even have to do the divination. The demon was definitely nearby.   
As they went further, deep claw marks appeared in the wall. Lavi turned around, pressing his finger to his lips. Darkness yawned around his back. Wind whistled around them, tugging at his clothes. The flashlight blinked once, twice, and then they were plunged into darkness. 

The still quiet hung heavy around Allen’s ears. His blood crystallized, freezing in his veins. The dull throbbing of his heart was muted. His head spun, full of cotton and suddenly constricting with a headache. 

In a rush, it all came back. He scrambled with his magic, reaching into the air for a spark. A small fire ignited in the palm of his hand, revealing the face of Lenalee standing to his left. Her eyes were wide, her hair blown wild by the wind. She licked her lips, parched. “Where’s Lavi?” she whispered harshly. 

He started, looking around the cavern that they had stumbled into. The redhead was nowhere to be found. The demon had taken him. 

Allen felt suddenly exhausted, his limbs heavy and leaden. Lavi was the one who knew his way around the catacombs. Without him, they were essentially stranded. There were probably dozens of miles of tunnels under the city, and they could be in any one of them. Starvation would find them before any possible rescuer. That was if the demon didn't get them first. 

“Alright,” he said finally. “We have to find Lavi.” Lenalee nodded resolutely. “There were signs before we came here, right? The clawmarks and the wind. We just have to walk until we find them again. Just staying here won’t do anything for us or Lavi.” He turned to Lenalee. “Also, Lavi spoke about a legend around the catacombs. I meant to ask him, but forgot. What was he talking about?” 

Lenalee startled. “You didn’t know?”

Allen shook his head. 

“It’s rumored that the Sword of Exorcism was hidden here. Personally, I think it was either destroyed or lost to time, but if we could find it here that would be amazing. It’s the strongest tool for exorcism ever made.” 

Mana smiled at him, holding the sword out. “Look, Allen, now we match!” Allen stared down at the sword in his hand. It was the inverse of Mana’s own sword. 

Allen smiled wanly. “That would be good.” 

She nodded. “If it is here, I imagine the demon probably knows where it is. We should try to ask it if we can.” She frowned, remembering how strong the demon was. 

“Well,” Allen said resolutely. “Our first order of business is finding Lavi.”

“How can we find him, though?” Lenalee asked. “We don’t even know where we are.” 

Allen sighed through his nose. “I hate to suggest it, but I think we should split up.”

“Allen, what the hell?” Lenalee exclaimed. “Have you never seen a horror movie?” 

“I know, but there’s a spell that can bind us together. If one of us activates it, it summons the other. That way we won’t be alone if we’re in danger. Plus, this way one of us might find the Sword of Exorcism.” 

Lenalee sighed. “I don’t like it, but… you’re right.” 

Allen pulled a length of twine out of his backpack, tying one end around his wrist and the other around Lenalee’s. He muttered a few words in Latin before cutting the string in the middle. “If you need me, just say reperio Allen.” 

She nodded. “So you go left and I’ll go right?” 

“Yep.” He started down the tunnel. He’d been walking a few minutes before the tunnel narrowed to the point he had to crawl to get through. Finally, the tunnel opened into a large chamber. The room was colder than the surrounding tunnel, and the walls were covered in scratches. Bones littered the floor and walls. He took a deep breath, the cold irritating his lungs. This was definitely the demon’s home. 

He stopped when he saw a man sitting on the far side of the cave. He was wearing a dark charcoal suit that was somehow not smeared in mud from the caves. A row of star-shaped scars adorned his forehead like a crown. Most striking were his gold eyes and dark grey skin. A Noah. 

Allen took a step forward. The Noah materialized behind him, driving an elbow into the small of Allen’s back. Allen fell forward, his head hitting the cave wall hard. He grasped blindly, grabbing onto a skull to pull himself up. “Who are you?” he asked. 

The man gave a mock bow. “I’m Tyki Mikk, the Noah of Pleasure. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Allen Walker. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve been sent to kill you.” 

The Noah punched him again in the stomach. An unpleasant crack rang in his ears as his ribs bowed inward. He gasped, coughing. 

“Do you know what my power is?” the Noah asked. He held his hand out in front of him, staring at it bemusedly. “It’s a very amusing power. I can go through anything.” He stuck his hand through Allen’s abdomen. 

It felt like ice going through his stomach. He coughed, his body instinctively trying to get it out. 

The Noah smiled, withdrawing his hand. “I can also make it solid at will.” He reached out, this time sticking his hand into Allen’s chest. He wiggled it around, feeling for the heart. “Sorry, but this might hurt.” 

Before he could tear a hole in Allen’s heart, he was thrown into the cave wall. Allen was standing, his fist extended from hitting Tykki. His head was down, but something was… different. When he looked up, golden eyes locked on gold. 

Tyki’s eyes narrowed. 

***

The Earl hadn’t mentioned that Allen Walker was a Noah. Now Tyki was cursing him for it. He had an 18 year old coming at him with what looked like the Earl’s sword. He narrowly dodged a swing that would have taken off his head. 

“Come on, Tyki,” the boy said playfully. “You’re reluctant to kill one of the family? If I remember, you weren’t hesitant at all when you tried to murder me last time.” 

Tyki stared at him, transfixed. “Who are you?” 

“That’s for me to know, and you to wonder about.” The not-Allen struck out again, slicing across Tyki’s stomach. 

He leaped backwards, managing to prevent his own disembowelment. Things were not looking in his favor. He had some interesting powers, but he wasn’t the strongest of the Noah, particularly since he had only woken up a year ago. 

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said as the boy’s companions ran into the cave. He snapped his fingers, stepping backwards into the portal that appeared. “See you later, boy.” 

Lenalee and Lavi stared at Allen, standing there with a huge sword and those piercing, golden eyes. He was a completely different person. More ruthless, more… dangerous. He wavered, his eyes turning back to light grey, before he collapsed.


	5. Ricordanza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franz Liszt- Etudes d'Execution Transcendente, VIIII. Ricordanza https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maJNG-XOCgo

His mother stood in the kitchen. She hemmed and hawed over the ingredients, carefully selecting the spices that would bring the most out of the stew. Potato potage again. She turned, sensing his presence.

He quickly darted back behind the corner, his heart beating hard in his chest. Things were better when she didn’t see him. Sometimes he wished he was invisible, so that mother and father couldn’t see him. So that the villagers didn’t see him and call him names. But that was better than at home, so he spent as much time outside as possible. 

A shove pushed the air out of him. He fell to the floor, coughing weakly. His father spat. “What a creep. Won’t say hello to your own mother?” 

Allen’s gaze turned sullen. He kept his mouth shut. That was the safest approach, he’d found. Cowering him got no extra sympathy. Neither did begging, or whatever else he did to tried to get his parents to believe that he hadn’t done something wrong in the womb to be born with one arm. 

 

That night he got no potage, just like the night before. New bruises bloomed on his skin from the beating. His stepfather was a bastard. There were many nights he’d closed his eyes tight, wishing that his real father had never abandoned him and his mother. Not that his mother was much better, but he liked to imagine that his father would have protected him. 

From what his mother had told him briefly when he was young, when the wine dripped honey from her tongue, his father was the best mage in the world. Powerful, dashing, intelligent. A man like that wouldn’t mistreat his own son. He liked to believe that his father hadn’t left of his own will. 

His stepfather was a mage, too, by the broadest definition. The charms he made rarely worked, barely holding any of his weak magic. Because of that he was rarely employed, and they lived in poverty. This only amplified his anger at Allen. 

To be honest, Allen was surprised that they hadn’t totally abandoned or murdered him yet. They definitely hated him enough. And he didn’t hide his distaste for them. 

He slowly got out of bed, making sure not to make any noise. He’d waited an hour since the last noise to make sure that his parents were in bed and asleep. He crept into the reading room. He snapped his finger quitely, conjuring a small flame. Using the light of the flame, he browsed the titles.   
These were his stepfather’s grimoires. Though he rarely used them now, he’d been given them by his teachers. Now Allen used them to teach himself magic. 

Magic was one of the few things Allen was good at. He was a natural, probably due to his lineage. Though he couldn’t read, grimoires didn’t require it. It was like they beamed the words directly into his brain. They told him what spell to say and how to say it. Allen had learned from his stepfather that most mages trained for months just to be able to use a grimoire. 

He grabbed one off the shelf, picking up where he’d left off. After a few months of learning how to use element magic, he’d gotten bored and moved on to a more interesting subject. Demons. Now he was reading about summoning a demon. Demons were by nature elusive creatures, and hard to tie down. When they were summoned, their instinct was to free themselves and then murder whoever had summoned them. He wasn’t planning on summoning demons any time soon. He was so engrossed in the book he didn’t notice his stepfather standing behind him. 

“What are you reading?” 

Allen jumped up, reflexively hiding the book behind his back. “N-nothing.” His stepfather struck him across the face, leaving him reeling. 

“You’re a liar,” he said in a flat tone. “I’ve tried to convince Cynthia many times, but she’s soft. She still has some sort of attachment to you, demon spawn. She refuses to abandon you.” 

I wish she would, Allen thought deliriously. 

“But now she’ll see,” he said. “You must have inherited your father’s way with magic. You’re being drawn to the dark side of magic more easily because a demon’s curse took your arm. Now I have to beat it out of you.” He struck Allen again, this time in the stomach. 

He wheezed, fighting back the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. His body curled into a ball, instinctively trying to protect himself from the blows raining down. After a few minutes of the abuse, his body grew limp. 

 

He woke up in the same position he’d been in when he’d fallen unconscious. The room was dark. Blood had crusted under his nose and over his lips. He tried to sit up, only to fall back. His ribs were definitely cracked. 

He laid there for what must have been at least another hour. Dawn light was just entering the room when he managed to haul himself up and limp to his room. His muscles screamed in agony and he barely managed to make it to his bed before collapsing. 

He hated his stepfather. He hated his family. And he hated this fucking town that thought he was cursed. Sitting there, stewing in his hatred, a plan slowly formed in his mind. 

 

***

 

He’d seen the diagram once in the grimoire, but quickly skipped over it. It made him nauseous to look at, so he avoided it altogether. But now that he had decided to go forward with his plan, Allen would have to spend some serious time studying it. 

A spell to summon a demon. A month ago he would have laughed at himself for even attempting a spell like this. If he failed he would almost certainly die. And there were a lot of ways to mess up something this complicated. But death would be better than the way he was living now. 

After he’d been found with the grimoire, his stepfather had hidden away all his books on magic. All except one Allen had managed to squirrel away. The one that even he, with his limited knowledge of magic, could tell was forbidden. It was a book of demons. It showed the summoning circles for a variety of demons. He’d chosen the weakest one, a fire imp, which should be the easiest kind to summon. 

Tonight was the night to do it. The full moon was bright overhead, and clouds brewed overhead, obscuring the stars and leaving the night almost pitch black. This was the witching hour in the most literal sense. 

He’d snuck out and carved the circle into the hard-packed dirt with a stick. The book lay open on one side of the circle. He took a deep breath and stepped within the bound. He bit his thumb, letting the blood drip into the heart of the circle. 

For a long second, the world was silent. It was like the heart of the universe had skipped a beat. When the moment unfroze, there was a man standing in the middle of the circle. Not a man. A demon. His skin was a deep grey, and when he turned around gold eyes cut to the center of his soul. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. 

“What do you want, little boy?” the demon asked. His voice was deep and playful, contrasting the devilish glint in his eyes. 

“I….” he paused for a second, almost overcome. “I need you to kill the people living in that house.” He pointed at his cottage. 

The demon stared at him in shock. “Aren’t you a little young to be killing people?” 

“They deserve it!” he said defensively. “They’re going to kill me soon, I can tell. So I need to kill them first.” His voice had taken on a hysterical tone. 

The demon sighed. “Very well.” He didn’t relish killing people, but the contract of the summons mandated that he fulfill one wish. And if they scared the boy this much, it wasn’t likely that they would be missed. He slipped out of the circle and into the house. 

Allen stood, watching as a bright light illuminated the cottage for a second. Allen screwed his eyes shut, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the screams that followed. Then the night was dark again, and the demon walked out. 

“I’ve done what you asked,” he said. “Now it’s time for me to return to my realm.” 

“Wait!” Allen cried out. “I just have one question. You don’t really look like the demon from the book. Are you a fire demon?” 

The demon stared at him, cocking his head. “No. Are you telling me you didn’t mean to summon me?” 

Allen shook his head. “No, I thought I was summoning Arles, the fire demon…”

“You must have drawn one of the circles wrong, then,” he said. “But that’s very impressive.” He extended a hand. “I’m Mana, but most call me the Millenium Earl. You can call me Mana, though.”

Allen paled, taking an instinctive step back. He’d seen the name of the Millenium Earl once, in the forbidden grimoire. He was the most powerful demon in the world, the one prophesied to destroy the universe. He was the leader of a group of demons known as the Noah, who brought death and destruction. Then again, he might be considered a bringer of death and destruction himself now. If there was one thing he’d learned from being the town pariah, it was to never believe a story without proof. “.... I’m Allen.” 

“Allen, hm? Would you like to come live with me? You obviously have a lot of natural skill with magic. I can help you learn and make you stronger than you could ever imagine.” 

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” Allen asked. 

“If I wanted to kill you I would have done it the moment you summoned me,” Mana said. “What are you going to do when the people here realize what you’ve done?” 

Allen swallowed. “...Alright.” 

Mana held out his hand, opening a portal behind him. Hesitantly, Allen took it, and the two were sucked into the portal. 

 

***

 

When he opened his eyes, another demon was staring at him. He looked almost exactly like Mana, but there were some subtle differences. Twin brothers, maybe? Did demons even have brothers? 

The demon was staring at him with open curiosity. “What’s your name?” 

“Allen,” he said warily. “Who are you?” 

“So you’re the one that managed to summon Mana,” he mused. “I’m Neah, Mana’s brother. Mana told me to teach you. I’m more of the magician in the family.” 

“What kind of magician?” he asked curiously. 

“I’m more of a necromancer. You know, all that forbidden magic stuff.” 

“That’s so cool!” Allen exclaimed. 

 

***

 

Allen bit his lip. “Dad, I have something to tell you.” 

Mana stopped eating, his eyebrow raised. “What is it?” 

He took a deep breath. “You know I’ve loved living here. But I think it’s time for me to leave and discover what the rest of the world is like. What is my magic worth if I just stay here doing nothing with it? Besides, then I can learn some human magic!”

Mana’s lip wobbled. “But you’re only sixteen!”

“I’ll be fine,” Allen said. “Most human children my age are working by now.” 

Mana sighed. “If that’s what you really want, then fine. I’ll let you leave. But you have to promise to come back and visit!” 

“Of course. I’m not leaving you and Neah forever.” 

“And the rest of the Noah,” Mana reminded him. 

Allen tried to conceal a grimace. “Them too.” No matter how many times Mana had tried to force him to hang out with the other Noah, they still creeped him out. Mana and Neah had some semblance of human emotion, but the rest of the Noah were monsters. 

 

Mana tossed and turned in bed. He’d known this was coming for a while now, but it was horrible timing. He’d been having nightmares almost every night. He could barely concentrate during the day because he was so sleep deprived. The lack of sleep was making him paranoid and on edge.

Hopefully Allen would come back soon. 

 

***

 

Allen stood in front of the door, fidgeting restlessly. It had been two years since he’d left home, and he’d finally come back to visit. In those two years, he’d learned human magic from the best mages in the world (besides Neah, of course). He could hardly contain his excitement at being able to show the two brothers how far he’d progressed. 

They’d be so excited to see him. Mana would definitely be crying, and trying to use Lero as a tissue despite the imp’s complaints. Neah would be less obviously emotional, but he’d demand that Allen show him all the new magic he’d learned. Neah had always been fascinated with human magic, but as a demon he wasn’t the best at it. 

Taking a deep breath, he knocked. He stood, waiting for someone to answer the door for a minute. He sighed, knocking again. They hadn’t been expecting him, and it was a big house, so they probably hadn’t heard him knock. Even after the second time, no one answered. He reached forward, testing the door. 

It was unlocked. That was unusual. Mana could be a bit paranoid at times, and he always made sure that it was locked. Maybe someone had seen him coming up the hill and they’d decided to play a prank on him. He opened the door slowly. 

He couldn’t stop staring at the blood spattered on the wall. It was a deep crimson, providing sharp contrast to the white wallpaper. He was scared to look away. If he looked away, he would have to see the faces of the corpses lying on the ground. They’d been cut down mid fight. Unable to look at them fully, he could still see their wounds. A sword driven through the abdomen and sticking out of the spine, disembowelment, beheading. 

He finally managed to tear his eyes away from the carnage playing out over the room. He muttered a spell, barely managing to force the words out instead of vomit. With a shimmer of the air, his sword materialized in his hand. It was a mirror image of the sword his father wielded, with the colors switched. 

Without a second glance at the bodies, he went upstairs. He had to force his body to obey his commands and stop shaking like a leaf. He followed the trail of blood to the master bedroom. Mana’s bedroom. He was shaking in earnest now, but he managed to open the door. 

Mana stood in the middle of the room, his face obscured by shadow. Heavy curtains blocked any light from entering. In the corner lay a body. With rising nausea, Allen slid his eyes to the face. Neah. He’d been stabbed multiple times, almost mutilated beyond recognition. 

“....Dad?” he whispered. 

Mana’s head snapped up. The bright gold eyes were rimmed with red, and wide. Crazy. His mouth was twisted in a deranged grin. He stared at Allen in confusion. “Who are you?” 

“It’s me, Allen,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. Something was very wrong with Mana. 

“No, Allen’s dead,” Mana said in a calm voice. “He’s dead and Neah killed him.” 

“Why would Neah kill me?” Allen asked, his voice pleading. “He’s my uncle!”

Mana didn’t seem to hear him. “Then he attacked me and....” His face contorted in pain. “I had to kill him! He killed all of them! All the rest of the Noah are gone. It’s just me and Road left…” 

Allen stared at him, wide eyed. Mana had killed all of them. 

“And now…” Mana growled. “You have the audacity to come in here with Allen’s sword!” Mana swung his sword out, the tip barely grazing Allen’s stomach as he jumped backwards. 

“I am Allen!” he yelled, reluctantly putting up his own sword as Mana continued his assault. Mana ignored him, hammering blow after blow into his sword. Allen had always been the worst of the two when it came to fighting, but now he had adrenaline on his side, sharpening his instincts. At this point his skin was covered in deep cuts and scratches from close calls. He was barely managing to keep the sword at bay. 

Mana brought his sword down hard, forcing Allen to quickly back up. He tripped over the chair, falling to the floor. Mana stood over him, face terrifyingly blank. He brought the sword over the center of Allen’s chest, and brought it down. 

Allen screamed. Pain radiated through his body, spasming out of his legs and arms. His chest felt like it was on fire. His body twitched once more, before going still. 

Mana stood over him, breathing hard. The fights he’d had all day were finally catching up to him. It was a good thing that the intruder had come up before he’d fallen asleep. He set down his sword and went to bed, falling asleep almost instantly. 

Allen opened his eyes slowly, waiting for Mana’s breath to even out. He stared at Neah’s corpse in the corner, grimacing as he thought about what he was going to do. This was one spell that Neah hadn’t taught him. He’d found it in one of the books in the huge library at the heart of the mansion. There was a section that was always dark, no matter how many lights they put near it, and the air got hard to breathe in there. Neah had told him not to read any of the books from that section, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. They went even deeper than necromancy, which Neah had taught him. These books were about how to cheat death. But to cheat death, they made clear, was to trade your soul in return. A human using demon magic too often would become a demon themselves. 

But he couldn’t just let himself die. He had to figure out just what the hell had happened when he’d been gone. And he had a feeling it had very much to do with the other Noah. They’d never made a secret of the fact that they thought he was a bad influence on the clan. Teaching a human demon magic was a recipe for trouble, in their eyes. And maybe it was. Because what he was about to do was just about the most taboo magic you could perform. 

Slowly, he reached a hand to his wound, getting some of the blood on his fingers. He carefully extended his arm, lining up his hand with Neah’s face. He drew a pentagram over each of the eyes, leaving smears of blood down his cheeks. Under his breath he began to chant the spell. It had been three years since he’d read it, but the moment he reached for it it was there on the tip of his tongue. 

He finished the spell, letting out a shiver. His extremities were numb from the blood loss. Suddenly he went stiff, his eyes rolling back in his head. A second later he relaxed completely, his eyes glazed over and chest still. 

Neah’s eyes opened. Allen looked down at his new body. The spell had healed the life-threatening wounds on Neah’s body. His body, he reminded himself. It was the strangest and most literal out-of-body experience he’d ever had. He looked across at his corpse, nausea rising in his chest. 

He forced himself to look away. He had to get out of the house before Mana woke up. Carefully, Allen stood up, sneaking across the room, down the stairs, and out of the house. 

 

When Mana woke up, the sun had set. He got out of bed, standing by the window to gaze at the view. The view from the mansion was one of his favorite things about the house. From his window he could see the tree that he and Neah had climbed as children. 

He turned away, freezing as he saw the corpse slumped over in the corner. “Allen?” he whispered. “No, no, no, no….” He ran to his son, his last hopes crumbling as he saw his dead eyes. Mana slumped over the body, tears running down his cheeks. If any other demon saw him, they would have a hard time believing he was the Millenium Earl, terror of the demon realm. 

He looked up, sensing someone entering the room. He turned around, ready to release his full power on whichever unfortunate soul dared to interrupt him in his mourning. Road stood in the doorway, her expression sad. “Do you know who?” he said, his voice shaking. “Who did this to my son?” 

“It was Neah,” she said. “He attacked all of the Noah. They’re all dead, except for you and me. Allen had the misfortune of coming home in the middle of the attack. You tried to protect him, but you couldn’t hurt Neah. He managed to knock you out.” 

Neah? His own brother? But he’d loved Allen. “Why?” he managed to get out. 

Road shook her head. “He wanted the title of Millenium Earl.” 

He screamed and screamed and screamed.


	6. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri Shostakovich- Symphony No.5 in D minor, IV.Allegro non Troppo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0iqZbM1Pdc

The first thing he noticed about the room he had woken up in was the rock walls. There were no windows, only a thick wooden door. The rocks themselves were covered in algae and periodically, water dripped down their sides like he was in a cave. Allen was laying on a thin mattress, straw poking his back. 

He sat up, grimacing as his wounds reminded him of the fight he’d just had. Luckily someone had bandaged him up, and well, or he would be dying for the nth time. Instead of dying he was just a little uncomfortable.   
The door opened, and two men walked in. They both wore suits, though the first man’s was obviously more expensive. It was tailored and the fabric practically screamed ‘Armani’. His hair was styled perfectly, and a small, meticulously pruned mustache sat underneath his nose. The second man had blond hair in a braid down his back and was clearly the younger of the two. 

The older man looked down at him with a disdainful expression. “Allen Walker. When did you learn that you were a Noah?”

Allen blinked, staring at him. He really thought they had busted him on the immortal part, not… this. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Walker,” the man said. “We have two witnesses that say you were possessed by a Noah when fighting the Noah of Pleasure.” 

Allen just stared at him. He couldn’t remember anything from after Tyki had stuck his hand in Allen’s chest. “I don't remember.” 

The man glared at him. “Your eyes were glowing gold. The possession must have already progressed pretty far if you don’t remember what you did.” He sighed and stood up. “Link, secure the room. Nobody goes in or out.”

The other man nodded, then hesitated. “What about food?” 

The older looked at Allen, his gaze going through him, cold. “Demons don’t eat.” 

The blond nodded, walking along the walls. He drew a large rune on each wall, then walked to the center of the room. He put his hands together, muttering something in Latin. The runes lit up for a second before fading into the stone walls. Both men walked out of the room, closing the door with a final thud. 

Allen laid back on the mattress, letting out a sigh. The human body could go three weeks without food before dying. About a week without water. At this point, he wasn’t sure how much of the man’s statement was true. How much of him was human and how much was demon? Every time he changed bodies he lost a little more of his soul and came that much closer to becoming a demon. At this point he’d thought he’d be closer to saving Mana. He hadn’t even seen him since he’d been killed the first time. His best bet had been joining the Order but obviously that hadn’t worked out. He was just tired. 

He sighed, slumping even further against the wall. At best he would die a slow, painful death of starvation and dehydration. At worst he’d finally lost his soul and would be trapped here as a demon for eternity, having never accomplished his goal. Mana would stay under the thrall of the other Noah, his mind complete mush. He’d never see his father again. 

 

***

His throat was on fire. Since there were no windows, he had no way of counting the days. He couldn’t tell by his sleep cycle either since as time passed it got harder and harder to fall asleep with the hollowness in his stomach. It had to have been less than a week, otherwise he’d be dead by now. Unless, of course, he was actually a demon. There was that to consider. He couldn’t even use any sort of magic to tell because whatever spell the man had used to seal the room had also sealed off his magic. He couldn’t so much as create a spark. 

His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. It slowly creaked open, opening enough for a small girl to poke her head through. Not any small girl. It was Road. Allen narrowed his eyes. Even for the Noah, this body had been extremely long lived. She still had the same body she’d had when Allen had been killed the first time. 

“Hello, brother!” she said. Her lips peeled back in a wide smile. 

“Hello?” he said hesitantly. If she was calling him brother she must still not know his true identity. 

She opened the door a little farther, and Mana walked in. Allen stared at him, almost unable to believe his eyes. His father really hadn’t changed at all. He looked exactly the same as when he’d left home. His nostalgia almost made Allen miss the crazed look in Mana’s eyes. 

“Hello!” the man exclaimed, immediately gathering Allen up in a tight hug. Allen let out a small noise of distress. He felt brittle, as if any greater pressure would snap his body in half. And Mana was squeezing pretty hard. His mind raced as he tried to figure out who they thought he was. Or what. 

He let out a sigh when Mana released him. “Who are you guys?” He figured it was best to play ignorant for now. 

Mana laughed. “We’re here to get you out, silly. When Tyki told me that you’d woken up and that you’d been captured by the Order we had no choice but to save you.”

Road looked around uneasily. “Earl, we need to get out of here. They’ll be discovering what I did to the guards soon.” 

Mana nodded, hoisting Allen over his shoulder despite protests. Road opened a portal with the snap of her fingers, and they stepped through. 

 

The mansion had changed in the 400-odd years since he’d been killed. The roof was half caved in, and entirely covered in moss. Bricks had crumbled out of the walls, leaving gaping holes open to the elements. English ivy crept up the sides, invading through the windows. Most noticeably, the old willow tree had died, and it was now just a barren skeleton. 

They stepped inside, and it was like he’d never left. The inside was exactly as it had been 400 hundred years ago, through some demon magic. Mana put him down, grinning. “Welcome home!” 

Allen breathed in deeply. It was nice to be home. 

***

Allen sat up with a jolt, his shoulders heaving. The walls of his room pressed in on him. He’d had nightmares every night since moving back into the mansion. He sighed, standing up. Maybe a midnight walk would help calm him down. 

He walked through the mansion in the dark, moving by instinct to the front door. He quietly opened it, stepping out into the cool night. He started in surprise. Mana was sitting beneath the willow tree, his head bent. 

Allen walked over carefully. As he got closer he could see tears dripping down his face and onto the ground. “Mana, are you okay?” 

Mana looked up, his eyes staring vacantly into the distance. “What do you think?” he said in a broken voice. He sighed. “I’m just thinking about my son. You know, I can barely remember him.” He turned to look at Allen. “Humans are so fragile. But maybe demons too are more fragile than we think.” Fresh tears welled in his eyes. “It’s been four hundred years, and I can’t stop crying over him.” 

Allen could barely breathe. Mana actually remembered him. “How did he die? If you don't mind my asking,” he quickly tacked on. 

Mana’s face changed suddenly, his vacant stare turning into an angry glare and his mouth twisting in resentment. “It was my brother, Neah,” he spat. “He killed Allen! It’s all his fault. All because he wanted more power…” he trailed off. He turned abruptly, staring straight at Allen. “You know, you remind me of him. My son, not Neah. You even have the same name.” He gazed thoughtfully into Allen’s eyes. “And how did you know that my name was Mana?” 

Allen swallowed heavily. “I-”

“Neah taught Allen a lot of magic that would normally be forbidden to a human,” Mana interrupted, standing up slowly. He began to walk towards Allen. “Magic that could bring a person back from the dead. Magic that could turn a human into a demon.” 

Allen began to back up slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Mana pulled at his hair, continuing to advance. “I can barely remember who I am most days,” he said, his volume increasing. “It’s only in the middle of the night that I can break through the haze, but even then, there’s… something I’m forgetting.” He fixed Allen with a miserable look. “I’m being manipulated by someone, but I don’t know how. They want to use me to destroy the world. Even now, I’m being… worn down. Who am I? Where does the earl begin, and Mana end?” 

“What do you mean, destroy the world?” Allen forced out. He tried to ignore the rest. It hurt too much. 

Mana gave a little broken laugh. “All of us Noah have been making as many demons as possible, in preparation for… something. I don’t remember!” His voice cracked. 

Allen nodded, trying to keep the raw panic off his face. “Okay, Mana. I can help you.” 

***

The first one went down easily. He had no idea which of the Noah were involved in Road’s plot, so until he could get her alone it was best to just take them out one by one. 

The first one was on a mission. The Earl (not Mana) had sent Allen and Skinn Bolic out to an old Transylvanian castle. They’d run into Kanda, which had just made Allen’s job easier. He just had to make Skinn mad enough for Kanda to kill him. It had been much harder to keep Skinn from killing Kanda. Humans were so fragile. 

Lately, Allen had found himself almost transformed by an intense apathy. It had been hard to bring himself to lift a finger to save Kanda. Humans just… bored him. In many ways, that would have been the worst part about his transformation, if he could bother to care about it. Luckily that apathy didn't extend to his relationships with other demons. He still found himself fighting to conceal his rage whenever he ran into the other Noah, which was rare, because he hardly ever left his room except to go on missions or meet with Mana in the dead of night. 

***

His plan to gradually knock off the Noah was working. He’d killed a total of seven of them so far, but the remaining four were getting very suspicious. At this point it would be impossible to get any of them on their own, so he’d had to think of a new plan. 

Road was the only Noah that lived on the third floor. This gave him a perfect opportunity to go after her. He would rather confront her outside of the mansion, but he was starting to run out of time. The Noah were planning a large invasion of the Black Order headquarters in a week. 

Allen crept up the stairs, careful not to make any noise. He was using a spell to conceal his aura, but it would be a shame to ruin that effort by stomping up the steps. The landing opened up into a long hallway. He walked silently, counting down the doors until he reached Road’s room. 

He careful opened the door, stepping into the room. Road was curled up underneath the blankets in her canopy bed. Allen snuck closer, his heart beating hard in his chest. His sword materialized in his hand. 

“Hello, Allen.” Allen whirled around, his grip tightening on the sword. Road opened the closet door further, stepping out into the room. “Did you really think I was that stupid to not realize you were the one killing the rest of the Noah?” 

Allen swallowed hard, unconsciously taking a step back. Road’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know who you are, but anyone who messes with my family is going to regret it.” 

Allen glared at her. “You really don’t know who I am, Road? The name didn’t clue you in?” 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“You thought you’d have Mana kill me. Make him more unstable so you would be able to manipulate him freely, and get rid of the human who’d been a thorn in your side for however many years.” 

She stared at him in morbid fascination. “So you’re a demon now. If you stayed alive to save your father, you sure took a long time to get to it!” She snapped her fingers, her lips curling up in a malicious smile. “Oh, Mana,” she said in a sing-song voice. 

Mana stepped through the door. His face was blank as he advanced on Allen. Allen backed up, his pulse quickening as Mana summoned his own sword. 

Without warning, Mana swung his sword, forcing Allen to leap to the side. Allen’s sword twitched, but he withheld from striking back. 

The next swing nicked his arm, narrowly missing an artery. He hissed, trying to ignore the stinging heat of the wound. Road sat in the window sill, watching the fight with a smirk of sick amusement. Allen tried to ignore her, focusing on the fight. He didn't want to strike back, but at this rate he would be killed. Again. He didn't know how much more of his soul he had left to gamble for a new body. The sword came down again, leaving a deep scratch across Allen’s abdomen. 

He hunched over, breathing heavily. There was one spell he’d found in the first hundred years after his first death that he could try. But if it didn’t work there was a high probability that he would kill Mana. As he narrowly avoided another wound, he knew there was no other choice. He would have to make the gamble. 

Allen was ready for the next strike. He extended his arm, knocking the sword to the side and stepping closer. Before Mana could bring his sword into the smaller space between them, Allen struck. He brought his arm back, thrusting the sword into Mana’s stomach. His father let out a small gasp. Mana stared at him, betrayal shining on his face. 

Allen closed his eyes, letting the magic build behind his sternum. He could only pray that he managed to finish the spell before Road decided to intervene. The words punched out of him, the demonic language almost burning his mouth as they passed his lips. Mana writhed on his sword, fighting against the pull of the spell. Slowly, a golden shadow separated from his body. With a final word, it shattered into fine dust. 

He slumped back, exhausted. He’d had to exorcise all four of the remaining Noah, as well as Mana with that spell. Allen turned to look at Road. She stared at him with shock and anger as her own Noah dissipated. 

Her eyes faded to brown. She stared at the scene with confusion. “What’s going on?” 

“Uh…” Allen struggled to come up with an explanation for what she was seeing. Thinking fast, he muttered a spell. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and he quickly caught her as she toppled over. He set her down on the bed. 

He turned to Mana, who had passed out and was sprawled out on the ground. Allen worked quickly, pulling out the sword and immediately staunching the blood flow. He tore strips from the bottom of his shirt, wrapping them around Mana’s midriff. 

He rocked back on his heels, examining his work. It would have to do for now. In his explorations, he had found a hospital not far from here. It was barely a two minute walk to the road, where they could wait for some car to come by. He cursed the fact that he didn't have a cell phone, or else he could have called an ambulance. 

With a grunt, he lifted Mana onto his back. It was difficult getting down the stairs, but a few minutes later he was stepping out into the bright sunlight. He squinted, staring at the ground to let his eyes adjust. 

Following the long driveway, he finally reached the road. It wasn’t a highway by any means, but it was usually somewhat busy. There weren’t any cars as far as he could see, so he began walking in the direction of the hospital. 

The sun beat down on him, making it even more exhausting. Every few minutes he had to stop and rest for a second so that he didn't pass out himself. Nevertheless, he continued walking. 

Finally, he heard the sound of a car. He turned, blinking sweat out of his eyes. The shaky image of a car appeared on the horizon. He stuck his thumb out, hoping that the driver wouldn’t be too freaked out by the fact that he was covered in blood. It was only due to his new demonic strength that he remained on his feet until the car pulled over. 

A man stepped out, a red mane of hair held back in a ponytail. Even through blurry vision he recognized his former student-turned-mentor. His vision faded to black. He felt a faint thud as he hit the ground. 

***

Allen woke up in a familiar room. He was in Mother’s house. Slowly, he got up, feeling his injuries. They’d been bandaged, but he could feel that they had healed already. There were some perks to becoming a demon. He wasn’t looking forward to the immortality, though. 

He followed the hallway to the dining room. Cross sat at the table, looking almost exactly the same as he had so many years ago. Allen cleared his throat, getting his attention. “Where’s the man who was with me?” 

“He’s in the hospital,” Cross said in a level voice. “He’ll be fine, I can take you there after breakfast.” He sipped from his tumbler of whiskey. “Who is he?” 

Allen hesitated for a second. “He’s my father.” 

Cross gave him a look. “He’s thirty at the oldest. You couldn’t think of a better lie?” 

“He’s older than he looks,” Allen muttered. 

Cross polished off the glass of whiskey and stood up. “Let’s go.” 

The ride to the hospital was quick. Once inside, they headed up to the second floor. Allen tried to ignore the butterflies threatening to escape his stomach. It was possible that Mana wouldn’t even remember him. Or if he did, he might not believe his story. 

Allen hesitated at the entrance to the hospital room. He could see Mana on one side of the room, sleeping peacefully. Cross gave him a shove, making him stumble across the threshold. Slowly, Allen approached the bed, sitting down in a rigid plastic chair. He eyed the machinery beeping next to the bed suspiciously. He still found it hard to believe that these machines could keep someone alive. 

Mana’s eyes fluttered open. He grimaced, swallowing with difficulty. “Water,” he rasped. Allen quickly grabbed the cup of ice on the bedside table and handed it to Mana. After sucking on ice cubes for a minute, he gained the strength to speak. “Who are you?” 

Allen’s heart dropped. For one gut wrenching moment, all he could think was that Mana had forgotten him. But of course, he’d been controlled by Road and his Noah when he had met the current Allen. Of course he didn’t know who this body was. He paused, lining the words up in his head. “... Do you remember your son?” 

Mana sat up abruptly, narrowing his eyes. “How did you know about my son?” 

“I-” Allen laughed hollowly. “This might be hard to believe, but I am your son. It’s me, Allen.” 

“You don’t look anything like Allen,” Mana said. He looked around at the machines. “And Allen died 400 years ago.” 

“I used a spell,” Allen said. “I took over Neah’s body at first, and after his body got old I transferred my soul to someone else’s body. I did all of that to find you again, and save you. You’re no longer a Noah.” 

Mana stared at him in shock. His disbelief warred with war over his face. “Prove it,” he said in a hoarse whisper. 

“Do you remember,” Allen said. “When I messed up that spell? I almost blew up my other arm trying to make a resurrection potion. I remember, you were so mad at Neah for putting me in danger that you wouldn’t speak to him for a week, even though it was my fault.” His voice cracked on the last word. 

Mana reached out and roughly grabbed Allen, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Welcome home, son,” he said in a voice thick with tears. Allen hugged him back, letting the tears drip freely down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along for the ride! Hopefully you've learned that I'm always a slut for classical music lol. Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
